What's On The Shore
by localfruitcake
Summary: CURRENTLY ON HOLD: When Moana finds a wounded mermaid on the shores on Motunui, she feels a strange pull towards her. But there is more to this mystery girl than meets the eye. (Rated T just to be safe) (Moariel slowburn)
1. Chapter 1

**Hope you enjoy! :3**

Moana laid on her back, feeling the soft, damp sand on her bare shoulders. She stared at the tiny specks of silver light decorating the dark expanse. Her grandma was always telling her the sky looked more magical when it was brimming with stars. Judging from the view, she was absolutely right. She sighed wistfully as the sea foam rushed past her feet, gently tickling her ankles as it receded. It felt good to escape the duties that came with being the future ruler of Motunui. She'd found that cool, starry nights like this made excellent distractions.

It wasn't that she shied away from responsibility. She loved the close-knit island community. Her people had been there since the beginning, when she was just a babe. It would be an honor to lead them. But she couldn't deny that she often longed for something more. Something she'd never felt here. She wasn't sure quite what it was, but she knew that out here, listening to the waves crash on the shore and inhaling the air saturated with the salt-water scent of the ocean, she felt content and at peace.

Moana may have spent many more hours stargazing, but her focus was pulled by a sudden, sharp cry farther down on the beach, followed by a quiet groan. She tried to stand without making much noise, and carefully slipped closer to the birthplace of the sound.

_"Hello?"_ She whispered, turning her head every which way. _Caution_ had always been something her father never failed to remind her of. She took a step forward, and tripped over something long, coarse, and tough. A voice yelped as Moana fell face-first into the sand. It clung to her lips and and eyelashes. Trying - and failing - to brush the grains from her skin and ornately patterned clothes, she stood and turned to face a black silhouette shivering against a smooth, wet stone.

She tried stepping closer, but the silhouette immediately protested, "Don't! Get away! I-I'm. . ." She was hyperventilating. A few moments passed by were the only sound was the mystery girl's ragged breathing. She cleared her throat and started speaking, "If you don't step back, I'll-"

"Hey, hey!" Moana stepped into the moonlight, letting the stranger get a good look at her. "I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay!" She smiled earnestly, trying to gain the girl's trust. She tried to sit up, but failed. Moana dived forward to lift her up, her instincts to help overpowering the warning bells going off in her head.

"No, _don't_-" Moana ignored her protests, dragging her forward. As the moonlight hit the girl's form, Moana's eyes widened. She nearly dropped her as she let out a gasp. The girl had a seafoam green tail starting at her hips and extending way past the normal length of human legs. The girl tried to break free of her grip, throwing her body in the direction of the water, but instead she stumbled forward, crying out in pain. It was then that Moana noticed the bloodstains on the girl's scales. A rusty fishing hook was buried deep in the girl's side. Her swollen, punctured skin gave Moana a sick feeling in her stomach. The girl's eyes rolled back, and she passed out, sinking in Moana's arms.

Moana looked at the trees separating her from the village, then glanced at the stranger, then back at the trees.

She shouted, making a decision, "Somebody help! Please help! _Help!_ Somebody!"

Bodies stumbled out of the woods, worried that their beloved Moana was hurt. Moana trembled, staring at the body lying in her arms. The villagers halted breathlessly as the tail came into view. Gasps of shock, horror, and confusion merged with one another. Moana's father, the current Chief of Motunui, usually had a look of irritation carved into his features. But all Moana could see now was puzzlement.

"Please, father, we have to help her!" Moana looked around helplessly for support. Some glimmer of it in the eyes of her people. Some small spark of hope. . .

Her grandma nodded, moving to help lift the stranger up.

"Mama, wait!" The chief protested, putting his hand on the old woman's shoulder. She brushed him off, sending him a glare that shut him up instantly. Without speaking, she took the girl's tail and helped Moana carry her towards the village.

Moana felt so powerless in those moments. Her fragile expression was reminiscent of a time when she was younger. When she found a starfish on the shore drying out, without any idea of how to help it. That same fear held her tightly, sending waves of doubt through her mind she couldn't shake.

Her grandmother had to take the girl's full weight as Moana's strength left her. She looked into her granddaughter's eyes and spoke softly, "Come, child. She's not safe out here."

The gentle smile on her face compelled Moana to follow. They walked through the trees, thorns pricking their skin and sharp leaving slicing at their calloused feet. They passed small houses and homes until the hut of healing came into view.

Grandma carried the girl up the steps and laid her down on a mat, calling for the priestess who lived in the adjacent chamber. Moana knelt down beside their wounded guest, brushing a cherry red strand of hair from her face to get a better look.

She was. . ._beautiful_. The girl's long lashes were unusually dark, and her lips were the color of spring flowers. Her wavy hair fell over soft shoulders. The girl's skin was so pale it seemed to shimmer. Moana learned a little closer, enchanted by this beautiful creature. She was so thin. Her arms frail and her ribs jutting out. Moana wondered if she was starving. She hesitated, not wanting to leave her side, but when she awoke, she would probably need food more than company. She sprinted out of the hut and ran for her house. _Grandma will look after her_, she told herself. _She'll protect her. . ._

It was easier to repeat it rather than truly believe it. But Moana ignored that thought, darting underneath branches and over briars and unearthed roots as she made her way to home.

The Chief's cabin was larger than those lining the thin string of woods. An added privilege to being the leader. It seemed, that even the small things in life, things that shouldn't mean as much to her as they did, even still reminded her of an impending destiny she could never change.

But that was just one more thing she couldn't think about right now.

Moana found a few loaves of bread, leftover fish, and a bowl of freshly picked berries. She grabbed a basket and filled it with the most delicious foods she could find. Covering the top with a clean piece of cloth, she rushed back to the hut of healing.

Grandma was there, mashing herbs in a small bowl and looking to the priestess for confirmation. The girl was mumbling incoherently, her fists clenched and her brow tight.

"Nightmares plague her," the priestess explained. Moana took a seat, the basket secure in her lap. A few candles were lit. The faint swirls of smoke and comforting flickers of heat enveloped Moana, allowing her to relax a little and release the tension in her shoulders she'd been carrying since she heard that cry on the shore.

"We need to clear the hook, before the rust spreads infection," the priestess said calmly, her tone as gentle as music.

"What do you need me to do?" Moana asked, her voice catching slightly in her throat.

"Hold her down, she might surface during the removal and we can't have her fighting back."

Moana nodded solemnly, pinning the tail to the floor and drawing in a shaky breath.

"One. . ."

The priestess wrapped her hands around the menacing hook.

_"Two. . ."_

Grandma set down the bowl and moved to restrain the stranger.

"Three!"

The priestess pulled the hook from the the girl's side and winced at the awful squelching sound it made coming out. The girl's eyes opened and she let out a shriek, her body convulsing as the priestess quickly threw the hook to the side and starting stuffing crushed healing herbs into the girl's wound. The girl struggled, but Moana and her grandma stayed firm, using time for the priestess to finish, sew the wound shut, and wrap a clean bandage around the girl's waist. She passed out from the pain, her head falling back on a pillow as sweat trickled down her brow.

The priestess quietly cleaned up the hut, wiping away the speckles of blood that had landed on her cheek, and picking up the hook to throw out.

As she left, Moana glanced at her grandma, blurting out, "What is she?" Her face turned scarlet as the words hung in the air. Grandma stared at the tail, her lips momentarily forming a smile.

"I believe the legends call her kind _mermaids_."

"Mermaids?"

I believe your father would refer to them as 'fish-people.'"

Moana smirked. _That definitely sounds like him. _ While her father made a noble and wise chief, he lacked grandma's knowledge and eloquence. Maybe that was to be expected, as she had lived a far longer life than him. All musings left Moana's mind as the girl - or, according to her grandma, the _mermaid_ \- started coughing violently. Her spine undulated like a wave as each cough tore through her. She finally stopped, lying back against the mat. Moana waited for her to open her eyes, wondering what color they were.

Grandma stood up to fetch some water. The mermaid rolled her head to the side. A soft snore soon filled the hut as she slipped farther into the world of dreams.

Moana awkwardly interlaced their fingers, squeezing her hand gently. She wasn't sure what compelled her to do so. All she knew was that whoever this girl was, she gave her that same feeling of contentment she felt when she was lying on the beach, staring at the stars. She slowly closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Someone had laid a blanket over Moana while she was asleep. A lamp burned beside the mermaid's mat, shining orange-gold rays over her hair and face. She looked distressed; the space between her eyelids was pinched tight and a scowl lay etched on her features.

_"No,"_ she winced, her shoulders jerking to the right. Moana felt her hand being squeezed, and realized that their fingers were still tangled together.

"Shh, shh, you're alright. You're safe," she whispered, tightening her grip on the girl's hand. A string of shouts vaguely drifted to her ears. She ignored it, trying to calm the shaking patient, but when they continued, rising in volume, she couldn't deny their existence any longer.

"I'm sorry, I'll be back soon," she promised, carefully slipping out of the girl's hold and walking quietly outside. The counsel's hut was filled with light. She couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but she didn't want to get thrown out by just walking inside. She snuck behind the trees and slowly approached a corner of the tent she'd been using for years to listen in on their conferences.

"-don't want to hear it, the creature's a danger to all of us! It's from beyond our island, _beyond_ our borders! Who knows what kind of trouble it brings!?"

Surprisingly, those words did not come from her father.

"We cannot allow it to stay!" the speaker barked. Moana wrinkled her nose at the thought of leaving an injured girl to fend for herself. Her father always said that the ocean - the world beyond - was dangerous. How could he say that and still willingly send the girl away? Perhaps if she was fully recovered, she would live, but to do so now, when her wounds were still healing and she was mostly helpless, would be a death sentence.

"She's not an _it_, Hori. The gods would not have allowed _her_ to come this far if her presence meant nothing but trouble," her grandma countered. "We have made many offerings and prayers, I doubt this visitor is here to bring us harm!"

"Mama, please," Moana's father finally spoke up, his voice laced with something akin to regret. Moana has to adjust her position, trying to get a better ear for what they were saying. Her father never spoke so timidly. She was used to his confident voice booming throughout the whole hut. What she heard now sounded nothing like the proud chief she'd always known her father to be.

"We cannot simply welcome her in without asking questions among ourselves."

"My son," grandma began patiently, "I am not saying we should have her to dwell among us forever. Only until she has fully healed. I believe that to cast her away now would be unwise! If the gods have sent her our way, we must try and listen to what they are trying to tell us!"

Moana heard a pause, the counsel had fallen silent.

Her father sighed, "I suppose. . .I suppose we can wait, and watch."

Moana let out a shaky exhale, relieved. Until she heard her father's next words.

"But you must keep Moana away, Mama. She will only listen to you. Until we can be certain of the mer- the _mer_-"

_"Mermaid."_

"Yes, that. Until we can be sure. . .we must keep Moana safe."

Another pause, before her grandma muttered an "of course" and the meeting was officially over. Moana tried to calm her breath but her heart was racing. A part of her was screaming. She could _not_ be pushed away. She had to be there, to help take care of their guest. She wasn't quite sure what made her feel so strongly, but she knew, she was _certain_, that whatever it was, she had to listen. Perhaps it was the gods sending her some sort of message. Perhaps this feeling was their way of telling her something.

She slipped out of her hiding place and tiptoed to the hut of healing. The mermaid's condition looked like it had worsened. Her whole body was covered in sweat and she was muttering protests every few seconds. She grimaced, mumbling something in a strange language Moana didn't understand. It was scaring her. How was she supposed to fix this?

The girl whimpered, and Moana couldn't stay away anymore. She rushed to her side, taking her hands and whispering, "Shh, it's okay, you're just having a bad dream. It's alright." She kept her voice calm and low, trying to be as comforting as possible.

A soft moan left the girl's lips. Her brow loosened, the tightness left her shoulders. She relaxed against the mat, drifting back into a lazy, peaceful slumber. Moana smiled.

_It must be the gods_, she thought. _They must want me here._ Her father was wrong.

She heard quiet voices from outside. They were getting closer. She lay the blanket over the sleeping visitor and hid in a dark corner of the hut, behind a shelf of herbs. Her grandma and father walked inside, arguing.

"Moana is curious! You can't expect her to stay away!"

"You agreed already that you would speak with her!"

"You think I would oppose you like that in front of the whole counsel? You should be thanking me for preserving your dignity!"

Moana had to stop herself from laughing. Her grandmother's fighting spirit was always empowering and amusing to witness.

"Mama!"

"If you want your daughter to stay away, you better give her a good reason. I _know_ Moana! She will never listen if you give her a poor excuse."

"I'm trying to protect her-"

"She doesn't need you to do that, my son. She is strong! You must have faith in her."

Moana but her lip, waiting for a response. Her father pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'll never forgive myself if harm comes to her. She's my only child! I can't help but worry."

Grandma's voice softened, she put a hand on the chief's shoulder, "I know. But if she spends her entire life being sheltered, she'll never become the leader Motunui needs her to be."

Moana waited for her father to agree, to disagree, to say _something_. But instead he walked out.

"You're not very good at hiding, my dear," grandma said sweetly, turning towards the herb shelf. Moana cleared her throat, stepping out into the open.

"I heard everything."

"I know, child," grandma said sadly, taking a seat beside the mermaid, motioning for Moana to do the same.

"My father-"

"Only wants what's best for you. Unfortunately, that can cloud his judgement. I have spoken to the priestess, and she believes that if the gods brought the mermaid here, then there must be a good reason."

Moana looked at their guest. She looked almost happy, no nightmares had come to plague her. At least, not as of yet.

Grandma kept talking, "Trying to hide is pointless. If the gods want harm to come to us, then there is no safety. We must stand firm and try to understand what they're saying." She looked worn out. Moana out a hand on her shoulder.

"You should rest, grandma. I'll look after the mermaid."

Grandma smiled, standing up. "I know you will, child." She walked away, leaving Moana alone.

Moana glanced at the girl, smiling, "You're not really dangerous, are you? No, I'm sure that when you wake up, they'll all see." She sighed, brushing a strand of hair from the girl's face. "You're just like me, aren't you? Alone. Powerless." She dropped her gaze, the smile fading away. "I wonder if your father is just as overprotective as mine."

The girl seemed to stir a little, her fingers twitching and her shoulders jerking a little to the left. But she didn't wake up. Moana sighed. "Guess I'll just have to wait for you to wake up, won't I?" She grinned, adjusting the blanket and smoothing the girl's hair. It was silky and soft. "Sweet dreams, sleepyhead."

Moana stood up and left the hut, a smile plastered on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

_Soft. Pale. Whiffs of something not unlike smoke unfurled around her. Everything was shining. And warm. Like a fire in a small, tidy hearth._

"Moana."

_"Hello?" She whispered to the blank brightness. If shadows existed in this world of light surrounding her, she'd think she saw them fleeing her field of vision just as she turned her head._

"Moana."

_"Who's there?" Her voice was higher, she clenched her fists and looked around for the speaker._

"Listen, Moana."

_"Who's there!?" She cried, whipping her head around at the faintest sign of movement. "Who keeps saying my name!?" Her hands trembled and her lower lip quivered as the chilling emptiness of the bright space suffocated her._

"You must listen, Moana."

_"Whoever's saying that, show yourself!"_

"Don't be afraid, child. Everything will be alright."

_Washed out colors confined her. Swirls of cloudy grays trapped her in an instant, creeping up her sides and reaching for her nostrils. Moana tried to push them away, to pull them out of her skin, but it was like trying to fight off air. They choked her, stopping the flow of oxygen and filling up her throat. There was a slight pulling sensation in her navel._

"Don't resist."

Moana sat up in bed, gasping for air. Her hand went to her chest as she tried to remember to breathe.

_"Hmm,"_ that foreign voice pondered, already fading away, _"Not ready yet, I suppose."_

Moana rubbed her eyes, fighting back tears. "What do you _want_ from me?" She asked the dark. But there was no answer.

"Moana?" Her grandma's voice was faint, as well as her touch when she ran to her granddaughter's mat and wrapped her arms around her. "Are you alright? I heard you shouting. Moana? _Moana!_ Look at me, child!"

It took a few seconds before what she was saying registered.

"I. . .I had a nightmare. I'm fine, that's all." Moana's voice was hollow and distant. _It was just a bad dream, nothing to worry about_, she tried to assure herself.

"Moana-"

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped, instantly regretting it as she saw the hurt fill her grandma's eyes. Moana reached out to take her grandma's hand.

"Grandma, I'm sorry-"

"There's no need," She cut her off, breaking eye contact. There was a pause before she looked back up at her. Even still there was something in her eyes that looked hesitant. Fearful. Completely unlike the strong woman Moana had always known.

"Sometimes," She whispered, looking back to see if Moana's parents were listening, "The gods speak to us in our dreams. We receive visions when they're trying to tell us something."

"You don't think-"

"I do. There is reason to believe that if the mermaid perishes, the gods will not be kind. The mermaid's wounds aren't healing. She's not waking up. I fear that this is all _beyond_ what the healers and high priestess know."

"So. . ._what_? The gods are trying to help us by sending me. . ._visions_?"

Her grandma looked away, almost embarrassed. "What do you remember from your dream?"

Moana felt defeated. Her grandma wasn't being entirely honest with her. She didn't know what was going on. All she was really certain of was that the strange notion her grandma, her father, the priestess, and seemingly everyone she knew appeared to have was that ignorance meant safety. They wouldn't tell her anything. She would learn no secrets, no matter how many of her own she told.

"I. . ." She looked into her grandma's eyes, searching for something. Some clue words would not reveal. But nothing came up. "I remember there being light. Everywhere around me. And a voice, calling my name."

Her grandma breathed shakily, nodding encouragingly, "Go on."

She squinted, as if the memory was somehow right outside her window and she would see it if she just looked hard enough. But all she could think of was that choking sensation and someone telling her to let go. To relax. To give in.

"I can't remember," she said sheepishly, biting her lower lip and looking everywhere but at her grandma's face. She didn't want to witness the disappointment that would come.

Her grandma sighed, "Tell me, child, if you remember anything else. If the gods truly are communicating with you, you must try to listen."

The old woman stood, making her exit. Moana looked up, trying to catch her before she left, but the only thing she caught was her grandma's shadow fading away.

* * *

"She's getting worse, isn't she?" Moana blurted.

The priestess was sitting cross-kneed on one of the stone ledges near a foamy waterfall, trying to meditate. Her lips stretched into a small smile, but her eyes remained closed, "I thought I told you not to ask me any questions."

Moana rolled her eyes playfully, "You should know by now that I can't keep my mouth shut." She threw a berry up into the air and caught it between her teeth, breaking the skin and wincing as its sourness exploded throughout her mouth. As far as flavors went, it wasn't too bad.

The priestess opened her eyes, taking on a more solemn look, "The mermaid grows worse every day. I'm worried that the gods might be angered if we fail to help her."

Moana dropped one of her berries, along with the carefree expression she'd been wearing, her concern showing. Her grandma had expressed that same fear just last night. She tried her best to look nonchalant, quickly adjusting her facial features to appear as relaxed as she was a few seconds ago. Whether or not that endeavor was successful was a mystery, though. She tried to keep her voice even as she asked, "What exactly are you doing, then? Trying to ask them for a cure? Something to save her?"

"No," the priestess frowned, standing up and smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. "I'm trying to appease them. I don't think I can do much for her at this point, and if she dies, we must be prepared to make the proper sacrifices. For the good of Motunui."

"But shouldn't we be focused on saving her life? What if there's nothing we can do - no offering we can make, what then?" Moana didn't notice how she was slowly crushing the handful of berries she'd gathered on the way to the waterfall. But the priestess did. Trying to calm the young woman, she started her descent down the rocks, her eyes never leaving Moana's.

"That's why we must continue praying. Have faith, and the path ahead will become clear."

"But-"

"Your grandmother will be expecting us, child. Let's go."

Moana groaned, nodding reluctantly and turning back without another word. They entered the hut of healing as the sun reached its peak in the sky, casting its bright, heavy rays down upon the island. The heat was overwhelming, but that was to be expected in the summer.

The patient was floating in a tub of water, instead of lying on a mat. They'd quickly learned that fishes - no matter how many human parts they possessed - out of water dried up quickly. Grandma carefully lifted the mermaid's head up, nudging her lips apart and gently pouring water in her mouth. She massaged her throat until the girl swallowed naturally.

"She's weak, friend. I'm not sure how long we'll be able to preserve her life."

"I know. But I've tried _everything_. Saltwater-based remedies, healing elixirs, nothing has had an effect. If I don't know much of her species, _how_ am I supposed to treat her?"

Moana stared at the mermaid as the older women discussed the details. Again that same strange feeling called to her, trying to tell her something. _But what, exactly?_

The mermaid coughed, mumbling something in her sleep. Moana waited for her to repeat, her ears perking up, but nothing else came.

It felt almost lonely, waiting for her to wake up. Praying every night, trying to focus on her lessons but finding her thoughts slipping to this dying stranger. If she never woke up, if her heart stopped beating and the gods sought revenge. . .what would happen then? If they failed. . .what would happen to Motunui? Her grandma thought the gods were trying to send her visions, but she couldn't ever remember anything once she woke up. What if Motunui suffered and it was all her fault? Because she couldn't _remember_.

Her grandma left and the priestess retreated to her chambers, leaving her alone with their guest. She took a few timid steps forward, resting her hands on the edges of the tub.

"I'm going to save you," Moana said, trembling. She took the girl's hand into her own and laid a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "I just want you to know. I don't know how, but I'm going to figure something out, okay?"

She wiped her eyes, trying to smile, "Don't die on me before that."


	4. Chapter 4

_Moana's eyes snapped open. She was back_ here_. The place where the gods had first contacted her. Her grandma had been right. They _were _trying to help. __It wasn't just a dream. It really was a vision. She couldn't stop herself from grinning, knowing that they would help her save the mermaid. __The girl would live._

_A shining brilliance surrounded her from all directions. There was no ceiling, or floor, or walls. No shadows. No darkness. Only light bursting forth from and filling every crack and recess. The first time she was here, the space had felt empty. Lifeless. But now, renewed with the hope of helping their guest, it felt cheery and pleasant. It held no heat, no pain, no sharp, searing touch to impart upon her eyes. Instead it was a cool, gentle luminescence she felt delighted to behold._

_Suddenly recalling the reason why she was here, she cleared her throat._

_"I know who you are," she said bravely, "I know what you're doing. You want to help me save the mermaid."_

_No answer. Not so much as a breath to assure her of another presence._

_"How do I help the mermaid?" She inquired, forcing herself to speak louder than before, though she doubted that they couldn't hear her. There had to be another reason for their reticence. Another reason why they weren't answering her._

_"A-are you there?" she stammered, confused by the lack of a response._

_Everything was quiet. Calm. Eerie._

_It was disconcerting. Moana found herself becoming more and more uneasy as the silence lingered on. __Why weren't they responding? They were the ones who had called to her in the first place, so why weren't they here? Where was the voice of the gods she had heard not two days prior? There had to be a reason. There had to!_

_So. . .what was it?_

_"Hello?" She asked timidly. _

_Still no reply._

_Moana crossed her arms and nibbled on the corner of her lower lip. The longer she waited, the more anxious she was getting. There was no _way_ they'd leave the mermaid to die. It was _they_ who had reached out to _her_. _They_ who had sent the naiad to Motunui's shores. _They_ who had made every citizen of the island _responsible_ for her fate. Would they be so merciless as to abandon them now? _

_"Please, say something!" She exclaimed. "You _have_ to help her!"_

_She was frantic. Had she done something wrong? Had she offended them in some way? Was she being too informal? Did she need to bow or curtsy? Pray to each and every god before they sent their voice to speak with her? Make some sort of offering? Where was she supposed to find a __sacrificial lamb__ in this goddamn dreamworld!? There was nothing here! Nothing!_

_She was so caught up in her skittish thoughts she missed the sounds of inh__a__les and exhales emerging from the hush._

"Moana of Motunui, you seek the counsel of the mighty gods. What is it that you wish to know?"

_Moana lurched about to face the speaker - startled, yet relieved. She frowned, unable to find their form, "Where are you?"_

"I'm here, with you. But I believe you have more pressing matters at hand than my whereabouts. Do you not?"

_Clearing her throat, Moana spoke up, "I-I do, s-sir._ Ma'am! _I don't-I mean, I-I'm sorry-"_

"Ask your question, child. Do _not_ waste my time."

_"Of course," Moana muttered, organizing her thoughts. "I-I want to know-"_

"Yes?"

_Moana straightened up, taking a deep breath. She felt the knot between her shoulders unravel, her body relaxed, and soon she was filled with the determination she'd felt when she'd opened her eyes._

_"How do I save the mermaid who came to Motunui?"_

"Hmm," _the voice pondered, once again allowing Moana to soak up the silent brightness of the place. Only now, it was making her feel sick. She wanted to get her answers and leave there as soon as possible._

_"You have to help me, or else she's _going_ to die!" Moana pressed urgently._

"I don't _have_ to do anything," _the voice snapped._

_Before she could identify where it came from, the cloud that had smothered Moana in her last dream came forth. It encompassed her within seconds._

_"Wait, please-"_

"You must submit, Moana. You cannot find the truth until you put aside your defiance. Only then will you uncover what you seek."

_"But I wasn't-"_

"SILENCE!" _The voice boomed furiously._

_Thick tendrils of fog stretched out from the heavy wall of vapor encircling her. Just like the last time, Moana couldn't step away, or push it back. All she could do was stand there in apprehension as they approached her, wrapping around her thighs and middle, seeping into her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut as the fumes found their way past her lips and into her nostrils. She gagged as they asphyxiated her. Her throat felt like it had been clogged up. Her lungs burned for oxygen, begging her to breathe._

_But she couldn't. . ._

Her eyes snapped open. She inhaled sharply, unable to get enough air in. Breathing had never made her feel so grateful. Her entire body felt ragged and sore, especially her respiratory system. She still sounded like she was choking as she rasped for air, clutching her chest and digging her fingernails so deep into the space below her neck that when she'd finally begun to calm down, she'd broken skin, drawing blood.

Her grandma wasn't there to comfort her like last time. She was probably with their patient, changing her bandages or reapplying the healing herbs and ointments. She was _depending_ on Moana. She tried to focus on her vision; she tried concentrating on what that divine, celestial voice had said to her. . .

She couldn't remember. _She couldn't_-

Moana covered her mouth with her palm, eyes bulging as the gravity of the situation hit her. _I don't remember_. As hard as she tried, every sight, every sound - they were all vanishing as soon as she reached for them.

_What had that voice _told _her? What had they _said_?_

Moana rubbed her temples, tears prickling in frustration. She groaned loudly, wanting to throw something. After waking up feeling like she'd nearly drowned, she felt cheated not even being able to picture any details. It had been like this the last time she'd had her vision, she'd woken up without much of an idea as to what had exchange had been had. Having it happen again, without her grandma to smooth her hair back and reassure her, was eliciting a less-than-mature reaction.

She knew she was supposed to be better than this. She _had_ to be better than this.

But no matter how hard she tried, how much she _wished_ for those memories. . .

Nothing came up.

* * *

Moana hated waking up in the middle of the night struggling to breathe. She hated the hopelessness in her grandma's face when they sat treating their dying patient. She hated the concerned looks her parents traded over breakfast. She hated having to stand by and watch the mermaid slowly fade away. But most of all, she hated not being able to recall a single _detail_ from her dreams. What was the point of the gods sending her visions if she didn't remember anything?

The stress was taking its toll on her. Dark bags hung beneath her eyes. Half-moon-shaped scabs sat above her collarbones. Purple bruises were showing up around her waist and legs wherever the misty tentacles from her nightmares forced itself too harshly into her skin. The smell of food cooking had begun making her nauseous. Her stomach had lost its ability to hold down whatever she swallowed.

She was a mess.

But until she found a way to help, she couldn't rest. Sleep wasn't even an escape for her anymore, just another _tool_ she _tried_ to use. Not that it worked. It didn't. Yet she still found herself grasping for memories that never surfaced.

"Moana," the priestess said softly, pity in her voice. She had fallen asleep beside the mermaid's tub again. "Go home, I'll look after her."

Moana clutched the priestess's hands for balance. She turned towards their guest, heart sinking. She looked lifeless, her veins contrasting sharply with her pale skin. "I'm sorry," Moana choked out, letting the priestess lead her back towards her hut. She couldn't do anything, no matter how much she wanted to. The sky was full of bright, sparkling stars. But that peaceful, contented feeling they so often gave her had left her weeks ago.

"We're doomed, aren't we?" She asked quietly as the priestess dragged her through the doorway of her bedroom. The priestess sighed heavily, gently laying her on her mat.

She smoothed the girl's hair back. The priestess looked deep into Moana's eyes, masking her own unspoken pain with a forced smile. She'd been unsure of whether or not she should share this next piece of information. But the heaviness in Moana's eyes convinced her that she had to speak. To take away that burden the poor girl had been carrying on her shoulders.

"I've communed with the gods."

Moana jerked forward, as if those words themselves had magically pulled up her tired body. "What do they say?" Her eyes were wide and frantic, alarming the woman standing above her.

"I-I must make the proper sacrifices, b-but. . ." She hesitated, her tongue unable to form the words in her head. Moana's reaction had been so sudden, it startled her. She tried to regain her composure, but Moana wasn't making things any easier with that wildness in her eyes.

Moana shook her shoulders, unable to wait patiently for the priestess to find her voice, "What? _What_?!"

The priestess dropped her gaze, two tears spilling onto her cheeks.

"Please! _Tell me_," Moana pleaded.

The quiet pause that followed was overwhelming. The priestess took Moana's hands from her shoulders, holding them tight in her own.

"They. . .they will not strike at the island. Motunui shall not feel their wrath. But, the mermaid. . ."

The priestess couldn't hold Moana's gaze. She didn't need to say the words for the girl to understand. The silence was becoming deafening. Moana dropped her hands to her lap as the words finally started registering.

"She's going to die?" She asked, eyes watering. Everything she'd gone through, everything they'd done to try to save her. . .all for _nothing_.

"I'm so sorry, child. But I'm afraid that you're right. Motunui will be safe. . .but the mermaid will perish."

Moana bit her lip, shaking her head and sniffing, "No," she said, voice breaking. That couldn't be the end of it. It couldn't come to an end just like _this_. Tears carved wet trails down her sunken cheeks. "No, it's not fair! It's not fair," she cried, barely keeping it together. The priestess turned away from her, walking towards the exit. She couldn't let herself stay any longer. She knew that if she did, eventually she'd end up making a promise she wouldn't be able to keep. It was better to leave her like this, with the truth, than to give her false hope that would only end up hurting her in the future. She didn't look back as she bid her goodbyes.

"I'm sorry, Moana."

Moana held back defeated sobs, listening to the priestess's footsteps become quieter and quieter, until the only sound she heard was her own wavering breath.

"Me too," she murmured, trying to dry her cheeks with her shirt. That was it. That was the end. . .

She lied down on her mat, clutching herself for some level of stability.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not sure who the apology was intended for, before allowing her eyelids to lower and sleep to claim her.


	5. Chapter 5

**I updated! Whoohoo! Aren't you proud of me? Apologies if there are grammatical errors, I'll fix it up later if I spot anything, I just really wanted to get this out of my google docs.**

* * *

_I can't do anything_, Moana thought, rubbing her eyes. Another night of forgotten dreams. Another night of pointless, _meaningless_ pain that didn't seem to be doing anyone much good.

Her mother stared at Moana's plate. The food lay torn up and strewn about lazily, in a forced attempt to appear half-eaten. They sat awkwardly. Silently. Moana looking starved, and beaten, and _so tired_, and on top of that completely too exhausted to swallow even a mouthful of food.

"I wish I could tell you how to fix this," her mother admitted, nervously glancing between Moana and her father, who instantly perked up at the thread of conversation, sick of eating every meal in silence. "But I'm no priestess. And your grandmother says they're doing everything they can."

"But I'm not," Moana said, hating herself for how whiny she sounded. She had a job, a task, and she couldn't even accept defeat with grace. What kind of leader would she be, when the fear of failing her people and failing her family left her crippled and bound to her room? Answers and solutions could not be found at midnight, head buried between her pillows, and as strong as Moana had thought she was and as strong as everyone else assumed she was, she was still a young, frightened girl. Afraid that her mistakes and her blunders would affect more than the life of this stranger. That it would cost her everyone she loved and cared for, and she would get to watch as everything crumbled before her eyes.

"I should remember, Mama. But I can't. I try every time knowing I'll get nothing, then getting disappointed when my fears are confirmed. If the gods chose _me_, if they wanted _me_ to help, why this-this _struggle_?"

She didn't turn away, didn't flinch as her parents shifted uncomfortably. Eyes yet red and shiny; voice ragged. She didn't want to keep hiding her frustration between pillows anymore.

"What am I doing wrong?"

"You're not-"

"_No_, what's wrong with _me_? I don't know how to help, how to be there for anyone, how to handle all of… this," she gestured to the room around her, as if it would make up for words. "I'm dying here, Mama. What am I supposed to do? How do I help?"

Mama stammered, looking unsure, before closing her both. Her eyes fell to the carpet, searching the patterns woven throughout as if they would give her the advice she needed to pass on.

"I'm-I, I guess just help with the menial work. Fetching water, helping make that special salve the priestess-"

"I'm already doing that though! But it isn't enough!"

"Wait a moment, Moana," interrupted her father, his voice rough and firm. "Your mama is trying to help you. Let her speak."

Moana nearly rolled her eyes, but listened, summoning her patience. Fighting would not help the mermaid. Now was not the time to get angry.

"Okay," she breathed, forcing her muscles to ease the tension balling up with each passing second. "Okay, okay, continue."

Mama looked uncomfortable, "I don't know what else to really say. Try to lighten the mood, when your working? The work isn't as stressful and then it's easier to focus."

Moana's skin flushed. Hot, thick anger broiling her insides.

"Wiping the priestess's brow? That's my _only_ option? The entire fate of the island is at stake. The priestess has made all the right sacrifices, she's _prayed_ for solution after solution. And still we-_we_-" she winced, hand flying to her collarbone.

"Moana?"

"Excuse me," she muttered, bolting for the door.

The scabs below her neck burned. They couldn't have gotten infected, she'd rinsed and fastened them, the care exerted done with a tired heart, but thorough nonetheless. She wondered if it had anything to do with the mermaid

The scabs reacted to the thought with a fiery spasm.

With a long gasp, Moana headed towards the hut of healing.

* * *

She broke through the curtain, panting as she headed for the tub. The mermaid was twitching, sallow skin shining with sweat. Her brow tight, her fists clenched, something was happening.

Moana knew.

This was promise kept, was prophecy come true.

She took the mermaid's hand, unsure of what to do. The tremors slowed. Her breathing eased. She seemed to calm down at the presence of Motunui's daughter. Moana didn't want to seem selfish, but the notion felt … _right_.

"What troubles you?" She whispered, not sure if her voice might coax a reaction, but determined to try. Moana ran her thumb over the mermaid's knuckles, gaze soft as it focused on her face.

"Please." She leaned over to brush a strand of hair behind the girl's ear, "Tell me," she murmured, fingers trailing through damp red hair.

Moana's eyes fell to the mermaid's lips. Her breath stopped. For a moment, just one little, tiny, _harmless_ moment, she allowed herself to wonder what might happen if she moved just a few inches closer.

The mermaid's skin, right above her heart, began to shine. Moana gasped as the light filled her eyes, capturing her attention. The skin was bright now, white hot light bursting from her chest and filling the room like a beam of sunshine.

"_Moana_?" Her grandma's voice was firm despite her confusion.

A bowl of stew slipped from the priestess's hand. Broth and meat splattered across the floor, the bowl smashing.

"What _happened_?"

Moana pulled away from the tub, a strand of her hair dripping.

"I'm not sure, I felt weird and I came here and then-"

She looked from her grandma and the priestess to the mermaid, uncertain of what it all meant. "I think we might be linked," she blurted.

The two women stared at her, not sure how to react. Moana felt stupid for saying that, but at the same time she felt like it was honest. This was either a connection or a remarkable coincidence, and judging by the faces of the pair in front of her, the former may have held some truth.

Grandma sighed, "I didn't think it was right to tell you."

It was Moana's turn to be surprised. The priestess shook her head, taking the old woman's arm, "_No_, Tala. We agreed. You made an _oath_," she hissed, eyes filled with venom. The sight made Moana step back, but her grandma stayed still. She wrenched her arm from the priestess's grasp, spitting back her own venom.

"My _granddaughter_ is more important than any oath."

Her hands went to the back of her neck. She unclasped something, Moana's eyes widened with surprise as she withdrew a shell necklace from beneath her cloak.

"This, my dear, belongs to you," she extended the piece to Moana, shoulders relaxing a little with its absence.

"What is it?" Moana asked, taking it. The shell opened, revealing a stone - bright green and shining with its own living, breathing light. Not unlike the mermaid.

"It is the heart of Te Fiti, and the ocean chose you to restore it."

Moana looked up from the heart, deep into her grandma's eyes. Then she chuckled, closing the shell. "You're joking."

"No, she speaks the truth," the priestess admitted. "The ocean chose its savior; you are drawn to it, and it to you."

Moana's throat closed, her eyes turning towards the mermaid, the girl's heart was still shining, though weaker than before. "It's destiny, I'm afraid."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She spoke weakly. Her hand found the mermaid's, the light instantly stronger with her contact.

"We thought it was too much. I still do," the priestess sighed, turning to Grandma. "She's just a girl, Tala. Don't do this. Don't force this on her."

Grandma shook her head, "We tried to save her. We _did_. But the gods have made their choice. It's time we accepted it."

Moana looked away from the two women, back at this stranger who did not speak, did not carry a single note or message, but had brought a knowledge so foreign and startling the destiny she'd been preparing for her whole life had fallen from her shoulders. The moment she'd stepped inside this hut, the reveal of her true path had set itself above her and whispered _bow_.

She had perhaps a hundred questions but only one that burned clearly within her.

"How am I supposed to help her? If the gods have really decided, why don't I remember my dreams? Tell me what I need to do."

Grandma took the necklace from Moana's hands and began fastening it behind her neck. She pulled away, adjusting the wet strand of hair on Moana's shoulder, "Now that your mind is cleared, hers shall be too."

The priestess stepped forward, "I'll make you a sleeping draught."

* * *

**The plot thickens! **

**Ariel's gonna wake up soon, if I don't go on another hiatus. :3**


	6. Chapter 6

**okay, so I know it's been a while, _but_...**

**yeah, I'm sorry, I have no excuse. I edited the ending just a little, just because I found I could make the scene better and I wanna make good content for you guys. I really appreciate the reviews, they're very sweet, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**Happy Belated Valentine's Day!**

* * *

Moana had protested when her grandmother and the priestess lifted the mermaid from her tub, both claiming it was a part of the ritual. She'd seen enough fish with bulging eyes and glistening scales flapping wildly on the beach to be wary. Somehow though, they'd persuaded her, and now she was on her back, lying arm to arm with the mermaid. Moana's fingers twitched anxiously, so close to the girl's. The priestess kneeled beside her, a small wooden cup in her hand.

"Drink up."

Moana hesitated, sitting up but refusing to tip her head towards the sleeping drought. "What happens after I drink that?" She asked, looking skeptically at the priestess.

"You will go back to your dream world, this time, _find the mermaid_. When you have her, _bring her back_. It's simple, really."

"It's not, really. How exactly do I 'bring her back'? Where am I supposed to _find_ her? These aren't actual instructions."

Her grandmother glanced at the priestess, eyes flickering over with something, "Just trust me, child. You will know where to go when you close your eyes."

Moana huffed. More lying. More hiding important information from her. She knew that they were still keeping things from her, but how was she supposed to figure it out when she didn't know where to begin?

Secrets has layers, and Moana knew she had plenty more of those to sort through. Even if you managed to pull one real truth out of somebody's mouth, you couldn't know what other lies they were still feeding you.

But she couldn't fix anything by sitting still and refusing to cooperate. First she saved the mermaid, then she set to figuring out their puzzle.

She took the cup in her free hand, gulping down the contents. The liquid had a bitter taste to it. Hot, but bitter. She would have spit it out, but it's effects were already setting in. The cup clattered to the floor. Moana's eyes rolled back and she fell to the mat, a peaceful, wistful expression setting in over her face.

The light of the lantern dimmed. Moana's grandmother looked to the priestess, her face somber.

"Don't make me do this. Not to my granddaughter."

The other woman didn't meet her eyes, hands reaching to retrieve the wooden cup. "There's no other way."

"She will never forgive us for this," her voice cracked on those final words.

There was silence after that. A quiet understanding between the two women. There was no coming back from this next act.

"I only ask," the priestess replied, finally staring her right in the face, "for the gods' forgiveness."

* * *

_Moana never completely remembered what happened in her dreams. Just little glimpses of cloudy white and something reaching out towards her. Nothing of use in the past. But it was enough to recognize now that this place was not the same one she'd visited so many times._

_It was cold and dark, the space around her thick, somehow, like it was pushing back against her. Something floated past her, a sensation of tiny little scales brushing her skin flashed up her leg._

You idiot, _she thought. _You absolute moron. _The girl was a mermaid! Where else in the world would she make her bed besides the sea? Moana's hand flew to her collar, grabbing the pendant hanging from her neck. She carefully opened it, the heart of Te Fiti glowing brightly. Closing the pendant and snatching up the heart before it could float away, she aimed it at the void around her._

_Moana jolted back instantly, pressing the cold stone to her chest. She drew in a few deep breaths. _Well, at least you've found the mermaid, _she thought bitterly._

_She slowly lifted her hand, aiming the light at eight black tentacles wrapped around the mermaid's body. Two eels wriggled out of the tangled mass, rushing forward. Their eyes were both two colors, one pale and silvery, the other a dark, slightly glimmering gold._

_When they spoke, it was slow, each "s" syllable slightly stretched out. And a heaviness too, like they'd each swallowed a marble and it was rolling around in their throats. But beyond that, Moana could feel something else. Some sinister intention, thinly v__e__iled by the polite greeting of "salutations, child."_

_"Hello," Moana started, keeping her voice firm. They would not manipulate her. They would not exploit her. She was not going to return home a failure. "You are?"_

_"Flotsam-"_

_"-and Jetsam," they replied, blinking at her with a feigned innocence. Moana gave them a half-smile, looking back behind them to the mermaid. Her hair floated behind her, the water lifting it up off her neck as if it pitied her, but had no power to set her free. The eels noticed her glance over, eyes hardening instantly. Moana drew in a breath, still wondering why she could do that. It must've been because of the dream-part. Reality didn't hold such a tight grip in here._

_"Do you need something?" Flotsam began, smiling in a way that made Moana more uneasy than she already was, if that was possible._

_"Or, someone?" Jetsam finished, swimming around her torso. Moana tightened her hold on the heart, swallowing the lump in her throat._

_"I do actually. You see, I'm here to make a deal."_

_What was she thinking? What deal? This wasn't even a part of the plan! Then again, thinking back, her instructions hadn't been too detailed. Still, a deal? Good lord was she dumb._

_The eels tilted their heads towards each other, tails intertwining. They looked like a crooked heart shape, eyes widening with interest and smiles looking even more terrifying._

_"A deal, now." The first said thoughtfully, glancing to his companion._

_"My, my." They paused, letting the silence sink in like the plummeting weight of Moana's brashness in her stomach._

_"And what exactly-"_

_"Pray tell-"_

_"Do you want?"_

_Moana shuddered, her eyes falling on the mermaid. She couldn't see her face, one of the appendages had obscured the girl's features from her view. But one of her hands, small and delicate, floated freely. Moana thought back to just a few minutes ago, when she'd touched her hand. When she'd been so close. That light that had warmed the girl's skin and changed everything she knew about her purpose on that island. _

"You are drawn to it, and it to you,"_ the priestess had told her. She was talking about the ocean then. About her destiny to save them all by restoring the heart. But something told her it was more than that. There was a connection between them. Maybe she was just telling herself what she wanted to hear. Maybe it wasn't anything really special. Maybe it was just an entire childhood of never really feeling adequate, and the suddenly this stranger came along and gave her a chance to prove that instinct wrong._

_She hadn't exactly done the best job of that._

_"We'll ask you again," Flotsam said, slithering his body around one of her legs. __She bit down to stop the yelp in her throat. __Jetsam did the same with the other, both dragging her towards the mermaid until she was just a few inches away from the squirming body of limbs. They themselves were maneuvering the mermaid to face her, pulling back her hair until the mermaid's brow furrowed. Even still her eyes remained closed._

_Jetsam almost sighed, tightening his grip._

_"What-"_

_"Do you-"_

_"Want?"_

_They detached themselves from Moana's legs, swimming behind to her shoulders._

_"Go on, child."_

_"Tell us, princess."_

_"What do you _need?_"_

_Moana stared at the closed eyelids in front of her. At the long lashes and soft lips just a breath away. She felt an old warmth dance across her chest, spreading up the sides of her face and crawling down her stomach. "Her," she whispered, voice suddenly hoarse._

_She didn't notice when Jetsam slipped the heart of Te Fiti out of her hand._

_"As you wish, child."_

* * *

Moana rolled over onto her side. This was the first time in weeks she'd woken up without her hands on her throat. Running a single finger down her skin, she felt for her dream bruises, wondering if some memory was missing. If an ugly mark would greet her when she finally dared look.

But there was nothing. No pain. No aching. Just Moana, in her skin, as she used to be before her discovery on the beach.

She opened her eyes, grinning. It was almost someone else that she came back to. The strong, worthy daughter she'd always doubted. But now she'd fixed everything. Now she knew that the look in the eyes of her father and her people - the one of trust and confidence - would fit her. Maybe it hadn't before, but it would now.

Glancing up, the sight startled her. No mermaid. No priestess, even. _Where was her grandmother?_ The curtain of the hut flapped in the wind. Night had already kicked the day from his throne, blanketing the island in cool, starless dark. The rusty lantern hanging from the ceiling clinked and flickered. Dust grains came showering down on the floor. Moana could feel a rumbling, low but deep. It was angry, vibrating through the ground and throbbing now, in her bones. Some new trouble was on its way.

Now it seemed the earth itself was yelling, and the call brought Moana jolting to her feet.

It was then that she heard the scream.


	7. Chapter 7

The stars were twinkling, and the moon glowed golden in the new night sky. But the settling night calm did not match the furious scurry of villagers, with cries and protests as they marched to the hut of healing. Moana had ducked behind one of the curtains, pressing her back to the wall and squeezing in her stomach to keep the light fabric from clinging to her belly and revealing her shivering form hiding in the corner.

It was only seconds after she had heard that scream that the footsteps followed.

She wanted to run out and try to help, but all of the noises coming from outside made her hesitate. Had they surrounded the hut? How many of them were out there? If she stepped out, whose faces would greet her? Certainly not the adoring, kind looks of the people who felt as dear as family. No. Instead there would be faces scrunched up in anger and mouths bent into tight frowns and impatient grimaces.

_Safety_ was something she'd heard whispered among the fishermen and the women working for harvest almost every day since the mermaid's arrival. Was it _safe_ to consider even helping the stranger heal? Would the island still be a _safe_ place for their children once she'd woken up?

Looking back, she understood. Who was it that had screamed earlier, after all? Her grandmother? Someone else? A friend? What if it had been a kid, running around until she'd gone and freed the mermaid from her slumber? What if she'd awakened a monster and now it was here to destroy them all?

No. It couldn't be that. The priestess had told her of the days she spent offering roasts and prayers to the gods, sacrificing the native wildlife to protect them from harm. She'd described the rituals she'd had to perform in passing, always intending to reassure. To remind everyone that she was watching over all of them. To remind _her_ that she was guarding them from the wrath they were all afraid may follow. It was more than anything Moana had ever done.

Still, a question hummed in the back of her mind. It poked at the image of her grandmother looking at the priestess, eyes shining with guilt. When they told her of the heart and her tie to the ocean. The question rose from a hum to a song, and Moana closed her eyes tight, as if the answer was standing right in front of her.

_What if the priestess had lied? _

_What if salvation wasn't theirs after all?_

She held her breath, clenching her muscles and trying to make herself smaller.

Someone had just entered the hut.

She couldn't see their face clearly, but she recognized the tattoo on their side, stretching over their back and on their stomach, and the graying hair pushed back behind their shoulders. Relief flooded her. _He will listen_, she thought, feeling sure of herself again. "Father?"

He turned towards her, squinting at the curtain until realization dawned on him. He stepped forward just as she stepped out from the curtain, running into her father's arms. She felt secure all of a sudden. It seemed silly, but she remembered that feeling of being vulnerable when she was younger. She remembered how fragile she'd felt as a little girl. Even up until just a few weeks ago, she'd known that sensation of weakness and insecurity, and the constant, never-ending pressure of failing to fix everything. Days. Hours. It wasn't something she'd necessarily grown out of. But being in her father's arms, she felt protected. She felt. . ._safe_.

All of a sudden the voices outside came rushing back to her.

She whispered, "What's going on? Where's gramma?" Her father sighed sadly, not answering even after the silence had stretched itself out for an uncomfortably long time. Moana pulled away, taking a few steps back. "They're here to kill her, aren't they?"

"Not to kill," her father tried to reassure her, extending his hand but it only made Moana back away. He paused thoughtfully, at a loss for words. "They only want to take her back to the beach, to let the tide carry her back home."

Moana's eyes widened, "But she hasn't healed yet! She won't be able to swim properly if she's just thrown back in now!"

"Moana," her father's voice broke. She looked into his eyes and saw the tears he was holding back. Moana knew the toll her dreams had taken on her had affected her family. She knew that her parents worried about her. She knew they didn't know what to do to help, and how trying hadn't been enough for them when they could still see the bags under her eyes. She _knew_ it pained them. But it wasn't until now that she actually _realized_ it.

"Father?"

"If the mermaid hasn't healed by now," his voice might have been quiet, but it wasn't small. He looked her in the eyes as he spoke, "What makes you think she'll ever get better? It's been weeks, you've done everything you can. It's time to let go."

"No!"

"Moana-"

"I can't give up now!"

"You've said that a million times! It's _over_. Let us finish this."

Moana didn't want to stop. She didn't want to fail. But how was she supposed to stand up to her father? How could she defy the will of her people? How could they ever accept her as their leader if she was still acting like a child? She might not be a little girl anymore, but she didn't have enough influence on her side to make them listen. And if they wouldn't listen, then it was time for her to put aside her pride, swallow her plans, and _try_ be the chief they expected her to be.

"Fine," she spat, more vehemently then she'd intended to. Her father's mouth dropped a little in surprise, but she brushed past him before he could respond. The mermaid wasn't here anyway. Her grandmother and the priestess must have caught wind of the villagers plans and secreted her away. Maybe they could hide her - keep her safe until she was ready to leave this place.

She didn't want to think of the alternative. The others would hurt her if it meant getting her off the island. Something in her father's eyes told her. Not hate or evil, nothing sinister exactly. Just fear. Fear that he wouldn't be able to protect his people - protect his family - from the wrath of the gods. It was the same for all of them. They were just afraid and unsure, and when people lost their courage - when they lost their anchor to what is just and right - it seldom ended well.

But she could buy time. She could stall, until she figured out exactly what was going on.

* * *

**Hey, so I know this was a shorter chapter, but with the quarantine hopefully I should be able to get more of them up and out faster.**

**This whole thing with the coronavirus is scary, and it's easy to freak out, but we _will_ make it through this. Be safe, and try to take this time we have now to spend with your loved ones. The world isn't ending yet, so enjoy every second you have.**

**Lots of love :3**


	8. Chapter 8

Moana huffed, pulling her hair back behind her ear. The torch in her other hand was getting heavy, and the search was getting nowhere. She'd tried slowing them down a few times; stumbling over roots, getting mysterious splinters she slowly picked out once the party had stopped for her to work it out, feigning multiple headaches, just anything she could think of. They weren't taking her seriously anymore. And even though she didn't want them to find the mermaid, she was getting antsy too. Where was the girl, anyway? Why didn't anyone wake her up? Why didn't they inform her before the priestess and her grandmother scampered off? She was tired of it. They'd lied to her already. What if they were still lying, and not just things about her destiny but the mermaid's too? How could she trust them to keep their promises?

Clouds came and fled as the hours ticked by, brushing the stars away and revealing them a little later. But by this point Moana wasn't looking at the sky anymore.

The group stopped for water by one of the hot springs. A few groans were let out, some asking why no one thought of resting up during one of the breaks they'd taken for Moana earlier, and the chief's daughter gulped sheepishly. Her father didn't respond to them. She knew he was getting irritated too.

The group formed a line by the spring to wash their faces of the grime and sweat that had been collecting as the search continued. Setting her torch to the side, Moana went first, cupping the warm stream in her hands and splashing it on her face. She cupped her hands again, but the old man behind her hissed that it was his turn before she could take her drink. She stepped away, picking her torch back up and finding a seat on the grass not far from the line.

A low growl sounded through the clearing.

A couple of the village boys jumped away from the hot spring, the old man who'd hissed at her turning pale. Her father's eyes broadened in surprise. Moana got up, readying herself to run if necessary.

Fists readjusted spears and knives were traded from hand to hand. The company backed away from the now bubbling geyser, some ducking for the woods, keeping their feet away from the leaves and finding stone formations to scramble on and walk over. Moana hesitated. She watched as the others crept away or closer together, but something held her in place.

"Moana," her father whispered, and she heard the panic in his voice.

Another scream. It came shrieking through like a strong wind, pushing the party back more urgently. Moana didn't move. She couldn't. This felt familiar, like a memory fogged with time. Something she couldn't quite place about that sound that was keeping her frozen.

It wasn't until she saw the eight long tentacles, bursting from the hot spring behind them, that she knew exactly what it was.

Men around her stopped mid-run, hands rushing to their necks and their bellies, each started to bubble up from the inside. Dribbling noises, like rain dripping down on stone, filled the clearing.

The tentacles touched the ground, pulling a monster from the water. Her pale hair was slicked back, her arms meaty and claws extending from her fingertips. A toothy grin sent a chill down Moana's spine.

The gurgling in under the men's skin persevered, rising until that was the only noise in the clearing. Moana covered her ears. Men were falling to their knees, their bodies now sprawled on the grass. A lot of them were screaming.

The aberration was raising the temperature of the water, boiling them from the inside.

"Moana," a voice called weakly. She turned to see scalding water spill down her father's chin as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"Father!" She ran forward, tripping over the neck of one of the fallen men. A tentacle wrapped around her leg, pulling her up as she kicked and shrieked in protest.

A tear rolled back over her forehead. She tried to throw her torch at the monster's face but it landed in the water beside her. It sizzled and bobbed, finally the steam rising in the air and dashing Moana's hopes.

"Oh dear," tisked the monster, grinning as another one of her tentacles smeared the latest tear on Moana's face over her forehead. "I do hope you'll pay more attention the next time a goddess wants to make a deal with you.

"You see this?" She used one of her actual hands to rip the shell pendant from her beefy neck. She pulled Moana's arm forward, cracking the shell against the bone of her shoulder. Moana cried out, barely seeing the green shimmer through the blur of her tears.

"The heart of Te Fiti. More powerful than Triton's little fork," she laughed, though those last few words meant nothing to Moana. "You gave me your power, daughter of Motunui," she chuckled, letting Moana fall to the floor. "Poor, sweet child."

Moana let out a whimper. Her arm was bleeding, and she could hear one of the men rasping behind her. The tentacle came under her chin, tilting her head up to meet the sea witch.

"I do hope you've learned from this," she said, sinking back into the spring.

The clearing was almost quiet, only Moana couldn't stop crying. She was alone. The others were gone, their faces blank and their torches snuffed out under their bodies. She got up, feet wobbling and blood still running down her hand.

She ran from the clearing, tearing through the woods without thought. It didn't matter where she went, she just needed to run away. Her father's face flashed in her mind. The swollen neck of the boy she'd tripped over. That noise before tragedy played like a melody as the images surge through her head. She fell forward, knees hitting the soil and dress tearing on the briar patch behind her.

Her eyes raised to the sky, to pray for someone to fix this, but she couldn't get the words out. The blood was gushing from her shoulder now, running down and trailing over her fingers. She felt light-headed, but couldn't tear her eyes away from the heavens.

After all, the stars had come out again.

* * *

**This cha****p****ter felt a little rushed to me. I have more of an idea of where I want to go with this story now that I have this written, but the twist was pretty dramatic so I apologize if it seemed a little out of the blue.**

**Lots of love :3**


	9. Chapter 9

The first time she came to, she didn't remember right away what had happened. All she knew was that her arm was sore and her throat felt dry. For a few seconds, she wondered what she was doing on the mat, with a bandage wrapped tightly around her arm and the smell of blood thick in the air.

Then it all came crashing back, and she had to close her eyes.

The second time she heard her mother's voice, telling her a fairy tale she hadn't ever heard before. It was of a girl who'd lived in the sea, who'd seen the stars and dreamed of living among them. She met with a witch, a sea monster who told her she could give her what she wanted. But only for a price. And when the girl failed to listen closely enough, she lost everything. It wasn't a very nice story, and Moana had to wonder if there was something accusing behind it. For making a deal she couldn't take back, for causing the deaths of her father and her people - deaths she could never take back. Her mother had never been one for sad stories, but maybe she'd just gone and messed things up so badly that she'd changed that.

Moana even bother opening her eyes that time. She didn't want to be awake. So she just let her mother's voice carry her back to sleep.

The third time was a lot less dreamy. She'd heard her mother crying in the corner, and her grandmother's soothing little hum as she tried to calm her down.

_"What if she doesn't wake up? What if I lose her too?"_

_"You won't, Sina. I promise you, I won't let her die because of the mistakes I made."_

Moana had wanted to say something. She'd wanted to get up, but she felt paralyzed. She couldn't move or speak. It was only long after her mother had gone and her grandmother turned out the lantern of the hut that she finally drifted off.

But now she was awake. Now there really wasn't any pretending. The village had buried her father, and if she couldn't wake up and be the chief they needed, if she couldn't come to and inspire them to keep going, if she just kept _lying_ there trying to ignore all the pain and the horrors from that night. . .well, they'd have to consider whether it was time to bury her too.

Her mother helped her dress, adjusting the train of her gown and the flowers wreathed around her head.

"You look beautiful," she said, not bitterly, but wistfully enough that Moana knew she what she was really thinking of right then.

"I wish he was here," she blurted, "It's my fault he's-"

_"Don't!"_ Her mother snapped, and it made Moana freeze. They stared at each other, not saying anything but not really needing to. Her mother smoothed the folds out of her skirt and said softly, "Just. . ._don't."_

Moana nodded, but it didn't make her feel better. Nothing really made it better besides sleep. But in the days leading up to her coronation, she hadn't gotten much of that. Her mother didn't want to talk about it, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. About all of the things she could've done differently. Maybe if she hadn't tried making a deal with a _sea witch_ she could've prevented this. The odds hadn't been in her favor. She'd been lied to and left out of the circle of information. But with what little she'd had on her side, it made her sick to think there wasn't something she could have changed that would have saved Motunui a lot of sorrow.

The ceremony began. The people bowed as she made her vows to protect and look after the island. They applauded her. Many even seemed proud of her. By the end of the day, they'd made her their new chief.

But she still didn't _feel_ like a leader.

* * *

"You should know what happened, Moana. What we were planning to do," her grandmother said, her face obscured in the dark. They sat in the hut, tending to one of the lucky survivors. He and a few of the other boys had already started running before the monster had killed Moana's search group, and somehow, the distance helped dull the intensity of the witch's attack. Still, he was sickly and pale, and Moana's mother was only thankful that the poor old man had stopped Moana from drinking. God knows what would have happened - what all she would have lost - if he hadn't.

"The mermaid's gone, the priestess is dead," Moana said coldly. "There really isn't a need, Gramma." She didn't mean to be so dismissive, but slowly, day by day, she could see the change within herself. She was losing a part of her soul to this grief. But honestly? She was fine with that. Her father hadn't come back from their search. Why should she?

Life had moved on, and even if she wasn't the same person she'd been before, she was ready to put it behind her.

"I'm not hiding from you anymore!" Gramma Tala whispered desperately. Her voice drew Moana's attention. The two looked at each other, both tired and cold, and Moana decided that it wouldn't kill her to listen.

"Okay," she murmured, "Just make it quick."

"We went down to the shore, but something was off. The mermaid girl was mumbling, and we thought she was waking up. We were going to throw her back in the ocean, and just let the tide do what it will," Gramma inhaled, voice low but rapid. "Before we could, though, something rose up out of the water."

Moana paused, thinking of the inky limbs wrapping around her leg and tickling the underside of her chin. The thought sent a shudder through her neck.

"It took her, and we were going to back away, and leave it be, but it swiped for our feet. I got out, but. . ."

Gramma's eyes watered. Moana couldn't look at her. She wasn't angry, or upset, but the story reminded her of what the witch had said about making deals. The witch had taken the heart of Te Fiti, and her island's heart along with it. Now it seemed that she'd taken the mermaid too. She'd been right about cautiousness. That one deal had costed almost everything.

"It's alright Gramma," she whispered, wrapping her arms around the old woman. They'd both been survivors. They'd both made it. At least they had that.


	10. Chapter 10

When Moana told her grandmother that the heart was with the monster, the old woman cried. She said that she had faith that the ocean may return it to them someday, but after their conversation, her light had dimmed. Moana saw her start dancing more on the beach, moving with the waves in meditation. It was the only time she ever saw her at peace anymore. Moana didn't want to disturb her, and her own dancing halted as a result.

Months went by, and the island of Motunui started to heal. The people went back to their old tasks. The coconuts were harvested and old traditions celebrated once more. More fortunate victims of the sea witch recovered. The fisherman went out again with their nets and boats, though for a short time - at least until their wives and children began suffering from hunger - they'd stayed away from the water.

It was a slow process, but as life moved on, the people learned to carry their love for those lost with them. And though they weren't present to witness the new challenges and successes of those still living, the dead were not forgotten.

* * *

"Chief?" Though the fabric of the tent shielded them from the sun beating down outside, the heat was still thick and unrelenting. One of the fishermen had approached Moana in the middle of one of her council meetings. She looked up from the table, tired, but keeping her eyes focused.

"Yes?" She urged him, waiting for whatever news he seemed so nervous about delivering.

"We caught something, out on the shore. I think you'll want to see what it is," he said vaguely, glancing anxiously at the men and women standing around him.

Moana stood, briefly making eye contact with one of the elders to accompany her, before following the boy outside. The others had sense enough not to follow, though the guards at the exit helped reassure them that this was a private matter, and if the details needed to be shared, their chief would inform them.

The beach was soft under their feet, with the tide coming in and lapping at the sands near the trees. It would be nice in this hot weather to lie here and let the water cool her toes. But Moana pushed the thought aside, striding to a small raft crowded by fishermen. They were all whispering among themselves, a few sending worried glances at Moana as she approached.

"Well," the chief said calmly, "What's this all about?" Shoulders parted as they let her in the circle, eyes on her face, waiting for her reaction.

Moana's facial muscles hardened as the red-haired mermaid from almost a year ago stared up at her through the fishing net. The creature's scowl held steady, but her shoulders were quivering.

Moana relaxed her jaw, trying to wipe any of the more chaotic emotions from her face. She was not a child. She would not be seen breaking down and getting hysterical.

They were all looking to her for strength now.

"What is she doing here?" She asked, still watching the mermaid, her fists clenching unconsciously at her side.

"She got caught in our nets. We weren't sure what to do, so. . ." the boy that had led her out to the boat ran a hand through his hair. The others shifted on their heels with uncertainty. No one else had anything to say. They only waited for her to look up and give them instructions. "We brought her to you."

Moana didn't break eye contact with the mermaid. She looked a little different than the first time she'd come to the island. Something about her looked wounded. Like she'd also lost something in the time since she'd left the island.

"Take her to my chamber. I want a tub prepared, like the first time she arrived here. Make sure no one sees you."

Moana finally looked up, the fishermen were cowering around her. The boy beside her licked his lips, hands fidgeting.

It was the elder at her shoulder who dared to speak up. "But, Chief, the last time-"

"I wasn't asking a question," Moana snapped, whipping around to glare at him. Her eyes were shining and she had to bite her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She wasn't trying to be so harsh, but her patience was getting thin. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, looking back at the mermaid. "I made a deal for her that cost me my father. She isn't leaving the island unless _I_ say so, got it?"

The boys around her weren't very old, not being much younger than she herself. But they'd had to grow up a lot faster after their fathers and uncles were killed. They knew the pain in Moana's voice at that moment. They'd known that regret, that feeling of not being able to change the past. Maybe it was that shared feeling that convinced them to nod their heads in compliance. Maybe it was just because they were young and unsure of themselves. But whatever it was, Moana allowed herself to step back, letting them begin the task she'd given them. The mermaid tried to protest but a hand had already slipped over her mouth. Moana walked back to the tent, the elder following bashfully at her heels.

They stopped outside. Moana knew her colleague was holding something back. She turned to face him, keeping her voice cool.

"Any thoughts you care to share, Hori?" He took a step back, and Moana, seeing the hesitation, met his reaction with her own step forward. "I know the last time, you spoke against her staying here."

"I did," he said, and readjusted his posture, realizing now how meager it made him look. He had served for years on the council, longer than Moana had even been alive. He could not back down if he wanted her to listen.

"You said you made a _deal_. Can you promise me that this contract won't backfire on all of us?" He gulped, eyes shining.

"It already has, Hori." Moana sighed, blinking to keep her eyes from wetting. Her father and her hadn't had a real conversation in those weeks before she'd lost him. She wasn't there at his side when that monster had murdered him. If the beast dared come back, Moana would kill her and cook her tentacles for supper. "It can't take anything else from us."

"I lost my _grandson_, Chief. I don't know why you want her here so badly, but _please_. For the people who need you, for your family, for _mine_, please promise me that you know what kind of forces you're bargaining with." A pause. Moana couldn't help the softening in her stare.

"Please, Chief," the elder muttered once more, dropping his gaze to the ground.

Moana could not let the sea witch break her pact so easily. She could not relent for that monster. But if she was going to do this, she would be sure to keep her people away from whatever consequences followed. They would not suffer again because of her failings.

"I promise," Moana said.


	11. Chapter 11

After they made her chief, the village had given Moana sole ownership of her father's cabin. It was weird. Before, there were rooms she'd never even been allowed to visit. Rooms even her mother wouldn't enter. And now they were hers to walk through, to eat in and fall asleep in if she wanted to. That was the easy thing about hiding the mermaid from her mother and grandmother. It was odd, but Moana wanted to keep the girl for herself. _Like a trophy_, she thought bitterly as she stepped inside her home.

It was a few hours after sundown, and everyone else had already gone to sleep. Moana found a bowl of soup waiting for her. Her mother must have left it. Moana picked up the bowl and wandered through the small cabin, slowly sipping the contents as she admired the decorations her father had mounted on their walls. There weren't a lot of rooms, just three others that she was only now getting used to.

She was stalling. The mermaid would be waiting in the third room, and she didn't want to see her just yet. It had been a while, and she wanted to eat up and recharge first before she tried to go start a conversation.

_A conversation? What _exactly_ am I going to say to her?_ Thinking back now, maybe throwing the mermaid back in the water would've been the better choice. No possible dangers on her people, and if Moana was planning on keeping her here a while, she certainly didn't have any plans on how to sustain that lifestyle.

Her pride had held her back. But now she might as well go and try to live with her choices.

Setting her bowl down, she stepped into the final room. A lantern hung from the ceiling, casting a vague glow. Moana unhooked it, shining the light around in search of the tub and the mermaid.

A piece of cloth had been wrapped around her head, covering her mouth. Her eyes were closed but jerked open as the floor creaked under Moana's weight. Her eyes were wide, and she was hyperventilating.

"Hi," Moana murmured. She adjusted the grip of the light to get a better view and tried again, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The mermaid gave her a withering stare.

Moana didn't look away. She lifted her hand to the mermaid's gag, only to be slapped with the girl's tail. _ Guess they tied her hands too_, Moana thought absently.

"I'll untie you if you promise to keep quiet," she offered, head tilting to the restraining cloth.

The mermaid relaxed a little, searching Moana's face. She hadn't realized it before - she wouldn't have since the girl was asleep almost the entire time she was on the island - but Moana saw now that her eyes were blue. Deep and vast in the quiet little darkness coating the room. They were gorgeous, like the ocean under the stars, and she made a mental note not to look for too long, lest she gets lost in them.

The mermaid nodded gently, lowering her head for Moana to go back around her and untie her. Moana walked around the tub, kneeling slightly. The knot was hard to see in the dark, but her fingers worked well, and a few minutes later the cloth was undone in her hands.

"Okay," Moana breathed, going back around, "Give me your hands."

She saw the arms rising out of the water, but before she realized they weren't tied, the girl's hands had grabbed onto her shirt and pulled her into the tub.

The mermaid shoved her under the surface. Moana struggled. The lantern rolled away on the floor, the light drifting away. She heard splashing and felt the brush of the girl's scales scraping her skin, but everything else seemed like a dream.

She heard her father's voice shouting for her, and all of a sudden her senses came rushing back.

She twisted the mermaid's wrist in her hand, using her legs to kick off the bottom and slam the mermaid against the wall of the tub. Water overflowed. Drops fell on the floor. Both of them were panting. Moana pinned the girl's arms to her sides, using her own body weight to keep her in place.

"Stop, just _stop_, it's over," Moana snarled into her ear, thoroughly irritated. She didn't want to be the bad guy here, but this girl wasn't making it easy, going and almost drowning her. The mermaid's chest was still heaving, but her muscles stopped fighting. Moana heard her breathing race, and then sniffing. It confused the young chief for a moment, her brain searching to identify the sound. Then she felt the tears drip on her shoulder.

"It's over," she said quietly, feeling the anger fade with each sob that started to rack the mermaid's body.

She'd wanted to get back at the sea witch before. She'd wanted to have something of her own after her father died and the heart was taken. But the mermaid wasn't an object to be traded. Moana has known that at some point, but somewhere between the months she'd forgotten about feelings and souls. Instead she'd focused on her anger, and the hurt, and how much she just wanted to make that monster feel all this pain she'd caused her people - her _family_ \- to feel. She'd been so wrapped up in those things that she'd forgotten.

Now, hearing the girl's crying, she remembered.

Moana let go of the girl's wrists and instead wrapped her arms around her body. The mermaid squeaked, but Moana simply tightened her grip. Her skin was soft and smooth and Moana had to resist running her fingers up and down her back.

"I'm sorry," Moana said, her lips brushing the girl's shoulder, sending a shiver throughout the other woman's upper half.

"For what? I tried to kill you," she laughed nervously, and Moana pulled back. It had startled her, the sound of the girl's voice. Back when she'd first come to the island, Moana had spent several nights wondering what she would sound like, how it might hit when she spoke.

She hadn't expected her voice to be so. . .pretty.

Moana chuckled, "Next time maybe do a better job."

The mermaid giggled at that, her head lifting up a little and her tail tickling the underside of Moana's feet. An old thrill rushed through her.

"I'm Moana," she said, almost shyly.

The girl beamed at her, splashing the water playfully, "I'm Ariel."


	12. Chapter 12

"You're back early," Ariel said, fingers doing careless, tiny swirls on the surface of the water. Moana set the lantern in a nook in the wall. If there was an earthquake or something, it would fall, but that wasn't a reality at the moment. Moana turned her head coyly, explaining, "I thought you might be bored, so I tried to hurry back."

Ariel moved from the back of the vat to the front, as close as she could get to Moana. Her eyes sparkled, "Did you miss me, Chief?"

Moana's eyes widened a little, warmth flaring inside her. It had only been a few days since Ariel had arrived back at the island, but they'd become close _unusually_ fast - joking around easily. Moana thought it might have something to do with the mermaid's vulnerability that first night. Maybe she didn't open up a lot, and that made that night special. Moana relished the thought, of this mysterious girl feeling a connection to her - feeling like she could be _herself_ around her.

The other thought - a horrible conclusion but one Moana _had_ to consider - was that it was all a pretense. That instead of feeling what Moana felt she was only trying to gather enough information to help her escape. She hadn't really spoken about wanting to go home, actually seeming suspiciously interested in the village activities and the customs of Motunui. It worried Moana, but as long as she had someone to talk to - someone to make her feel less alone - she could ignore the warning signs if nothing serious happened.

She tried to come up with a response, but her voice faltered. Ariel was smirking at her now. "Aww, I leave you speechless."

Moan couldn't help but beam brightly back at her, ignoring that heat currently gnawing beneath her skin. "You're a tease," she muttered, her pulse fluttering.

Ariel's eyebrows lifted humorously, and she pulled away, indicating with her thumb, "Get in."

Moana didn't need to be told twice. She lifted her skirt, climbing over to sit on the edge of the tub. Her feet dangled over in the water, giving her a small, childish satisfaction. Usually this was the part where she told the mermaid about her day - a habit that didn't take long to work its way into their conversations - but she couldn't find the right sentence to begin, still stuck on something Ariel had said earlier. Words came to her, and she said more clearly, "You know my name. You don't have to call me 'Chief'."

Ariel shook her head. "It suits you," she admitted, and though Moana thought she might continue, that was as far as she went.

* * *

"You seem chipper than usual," remarked Teuila, one of the women who wove baskets in the huts along the harvesting fields. Moana was inspecting their work, making sure everything was running smoothly. The others paid close attention to their own baskets, but Moana caught the attentive perk of ears and the slight, unconscious head turns as Teuila looked to her expectantly. So they'd all noticed. Moana gave Teuila a sly grin, which only caused the woman to shake her head.

"What is it that's made you so happy all of a sudden?" She said, weaving one frond under a taut one. Moana wondered if her asking out here was simply for her own convenience, or because the others wanted to hear and she was indulging them. Moana didn't reply, a small part of her wanting to keep it to herself, and at the same time not entirely knowing _what_ about the current passage of events in the last few days was giving her this feeling.

The older woman took her silence as hesitance, and in a show of consideration, leaned forward to whisper, "Is it a boy?"

Moana felt the space from her cheeks to her chest flush. It wasn't a boy, nothing like what Teuila was implying. But she liked Ariel. She was fun to talk to, and Moana had missed confiding in someone as she felt the burdens of being a chief disconnect her from those around her. She'd been so lonely, and something about Ariel made her feel whole again, made her feel confident in a way she wasn't entirely convinced was possible. It seemed silly, but that _feeling_, that intense, confusing feeling she got whenever she and Ariel talked was _real_. It hadn't been long, but there hadn't been anyone else she'd ever known to be so dear to her so quickly.

Teuila narrowed her eyes, and Moana wondered if Teuila might be able to see something in her face. If there was a reaction she couldn't hold back that was slipping through. "I'm right, aren't I?" she said in an excited whisper. "Do I know him? Is he one of the fishers? I know you've always loved the water, even if your father wasn't proud of it."

The mention of her father dimmed the sparkle in Moana's eyes. "It's not a fisherman, Teuila."

Moana loved her people. She loved how strange and wonderful they each were, how despite the individual and personal variety of each life and each story, the one thing that was always the same was how much they all cared for her. She loved how deeply they cherished her family. It was impossible not to love them when they poured so much of that same love into her.

But that didn't stop her, in moments like this, from feeling awkward and distant from them. They'd lost a chief, but also sons and fathers. And though the death of the man everyone had looked up to and loved pained them, it wouldn't last as long as it did for Moana. They'd had their own funerals to attend, their own graves to water, and their own loved ones to bury. Chief Tui would be missed, but his loss wasn't as devastating as that of all the other young men who had fallen.

"Well, it must be somebody, hmm?" Teuila said, batting her eyes.

Moana didn't speak, but the suggestive look in the woman's eyes, combined with the thought of being romantic with someone like Ariel, sent a secret thrill through her.

Teuila saw the shift from sadness to eagerness in her leader's expression, and cracked a smile, "Fine, keep your secrets," she said, brushing off her skirt. She stood, realizing she was out of her fronds, and it was time to go fetch more. She gave Moana one final look before walking off. "I'll figure them out soon enough."

* * *

**A lot of these chapters I've been creating have been shorter, and I haven't been as satisfied with my writing from chapter seven and onward, so I would really appreciate hearing your criticisms, thoughts, or really anything you have to say about this fanfic so far. I feel that my storytelling has gotten a bit stale, and I would love to hear your feedback on how to improve it and make it more enjoyable and entertaining.**

**I have a lot more planned for this story, but as the relationship between Moana and Ariel is developing and the plot adds on, I'd like to hear what you have to say, just to give me ideas of where we're heading, and what exactly you'd like to see.**

**Stay safe! :3**


	13. Author's Note

Lately I am struggling to find inspiration for this fanfic, and I think it's best if I take a break from writing it for a while. Originally I was going to try to delete this story and my account, but that didn't work out so well. So I'm going to leave this fic up, but I don't plan on updating it until I have the full thing written out. Not sure how long that will take, so I apologize for that, but that's where I am right now.

I want to focus more on writing one-shots, simply because they take less planning, and it's better for my mental health right now to dial back on stuff that's causing me stress. I'm not abandoning this fic entirely, I hope to return to it in the future, but right now I'm just not in the right place for it. To everyone who has followed, favorited, and commented on this story, I really appreciate your support, and I'm sorry about this mess.

I hope that all of you are safe, or as safe as you possibly can be depending on what circumstances you have in your life. Wash your hands, don't buy all the toilet paper, and I wish you well. :3


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